Inspired by Maroon 5
by Darkeyes17
Summary: A series of 10 one-shots of Jazz and Prowl inspired by songs from Maroon 5. Will be fluffy, romantic, or full of angst. Part of the 100 fic blitz. Now fully complete
1. Won't go home without you

**A/N: **This is going to be a ten chapter fic of unrelated one-shots of Prowl/Jazz moments that may be fluffy, romantic, or angsty. 7 will be T rated, the last 3 will be M. These Chapters will be influenced by Maroon 5 songs, and will be based off one song per chapter. It may be a lyric, the title of the song, or the whole song in context. I hope you enjoy. These 10 chapters are the first 10 fics of my 5 month 100 fic blitz.

**Disclaimer: No, not mine**

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 1 – Won't go home without you<strong>

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><p>"It was a mistake."<p>

"Oh really? You stood me up, and I think that was a very clear indicator you do not wish to see me after all."

"Prowler, Ah didn't mean to get overcharged. Blaster wanted to talk about some stuff, and-"

"And so you'd rather spend more time with him then."

"No! Please, just give me one more chance to make it right," pleaded Jazz, kicking himself over and over again mentally for being so stupid. It was supposed to be his and Prowl's first date last night, and in his nervousness, he had gotten so drunk he had passed out in the rec-room, leaving Prowl alone and waiting in his quarters.

Those light blue optics pierced him, accused him.

They had every right to.

Prowl put on an emotionless mask in his day to day duties to make sure other bots didn't see how sensitive he really was. Jazz knew this. Should have taken it into consideration. Poor mech was probably feeling vulnerable after his accidental rejection, when it had taken so long just to get the Praxian to actually be willing to go out with him, to take the chance, perhaps learn to love. The saboteur moved forward, visor flashing in the darkness of the night as stars burned brilliantly over their helms.

"Please, Prowler. Ah really mean it. Ah know Ah promised to treat ya so right and Ah mucked it up on our first date," the visored mech said quietly, wanting to touch, to hold that beautiful doorwinged frame in his arms and reassure him that he was sincere, but it would be pushing too fast too soon without Prowl's permission.

Prowl's doorwings twitched and he sighed. He stepped forward in his own admission of being comfortable around the other black and white. "I was afraid of that happening," he admitted.

"Ah know. Ah knew it and yet it happened. Ah really didn't mean to. Ah was nervous because Ah didn't want to mess things up, thought high-grade would take the edge off just enough so we could enjoy the time together instead of being awkward," said the slightly smaller mech empathically.

The chevron helm canted to the side as that smooth tenor asked, "You asked me out…you're so full of confidence, Jazz, why would you be nervous?"

A slow, gentle grin spread over the handsome faceplates. "Because Ah really want to be with ya."

Prowl finally gave in, smiling back. "If I said I was going to give you one more chance…"

"Ya would make me the happiest mech in the world right now," replied Jazz instantly, a bright grin lighting up his face.

The Praxian chuckled, moving forward at the same time Jazz did, their arms going around each other. Humming, the saboteur said, "Ya know, let's start over. Tonight can be our first date."

"And what would we do?" asked the tactician playfully.

"Go to Vegas! See the lights! Ya know if we get security clearance, we can make it by midnight," teased Jazz back, snickering at the look of consternation his comment caused.

"No."

"Aw. Okay then. My quarters?" asked the visored mech, pulling away from their embrace reluctantly. "To talk," he assured before Prowl could think he was suggesting anything untoward.

Taking Jazz's hand and squeezing it, Prowl reminded gently, "Yes. But…last chance. I…I don't want to be hurt ever again by you."

"Ah won't ever go home without you," Jazz promised, taking that hand and gently kissing the knuckles. They went back inside the Ark and talked the night away, learning their hopes and dreams, their weaknesses, their fears. It bloomed, it thrived. It was a promise kept by Jazz for all time.

**A/N: **That ending was slightly iffy for me, but if you liked it, let me know!

I love reviews. :D


	2. Sunday Morning

**A/N: **Oh wow, I am really getting into this. Here's a second one, and I tried to make it longer and go slower in writing the fic. I also wanted a romantic and cute one too.

There is a line in here that I derived from another story. It's a bit clichéd, but sweet.

Warnings: Obvious slash and kissing. And FLUFF! So fluffy your teeth are going to rot.

Disclaimer: ….you know it.

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 2 – Sunday Morning<strong>

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><p>Shifting, Jazz came up out of recharge slowly, languidly in his satisfaction. Stretching and turning his helm to the side, he smiled. Prowl was still in a peaceful recharge next to him, that striking chevron only enhancing his features. Moving so that he was able to reach a hand under the covers and lay it over his bondmates shoulders, the visored mech hummed a low melody. It was the Praxian's favourite.<p>

After a minute of humming, there was the soft noises of a mech coming out of recharge. Brilliant light blue optics were unshuttered as Prowl woke. He let out a puff of soft laughter, curling closer to Jazz and wrapping his arms around him.

"Isn't it great to not wake up at the crack of dawn?" Jazz asked, brushing a kiss over the white helm.

"Mmm, on occasion, yes," murmured Prowl, voice husky with sleep.

Chuckling, the saboteur murmured, "Ah'm so glad we're goin' out today. Ah've missed doin' some of the simple things with ya."

"Me too. You should have heard Ratchet's cry of jubilation that I was actually taking some time off," replied the doorwinged mech, his panels twitching under the covers as the soft material slid over them like a caress from his lover. The black and whites both chuckled at the visual. "Sunday morning was the perfect time to snatch after all," the tactician continued.

"We can actually get some semblance of peace," said Jazz, pulling Prowl up so that their forehelms were touching as they laid side by side. With a rakish grin, he asked, "Have Ah ever told you how beautiful you are in the morning? By my side?"

"Oh, only almost every morning we've been able to wake up together," Prowl replied contentedly, their mouths seeking each others in the familiar sweetness of a kiss. Pressure. Pleasure. Tenderness. All embodied in that action that was as comfortable as sinking into a warm quilt to read a book during a stormy day, and yet simmering with passion that could explode at any moment if they chose to.

Pulling back and making a noise of satisfaction, the saboteur whispered, "If we start somethin', we're never gonna leave base."

"Lead the way then, love," the tactician teased softly, rolling out of their pleasant, warm embrace to stand beside their berth, hand outstretched for his one and only, his eternal partner and lover. Jazz took it, getting up and snuggling into his sparkmate's warm side.

Looking down at the other black and white with the same awe he held every morning that this mech was _his_, Prowl said, "I love you sweetspark." The endearment fell from his lips easily and it never ceased to make the visored mech send pulses of love to him.

"I love ya too babe," Jazz replied, tone no less affectionate as he leaned up to place another peck on those kissable lips and moved off to get them energon from the dispenser, enough for the day, while Prowl packed the necessary things into subspace. A datapad with the story he and Jazz would read to each other, some energon goodies they had snagged from Ratchet's latest batch and a blanket for them to lie on – rather than getting sand, dirt, or mud in their joints from wherever they were going. It was a peaceful start to the day, domestic in its simplicity, leaving the couple feeling refreshed.

"C'mon Prowler, let's cruise," beckoned the slightly smaller black and white, making a 'come hither' motion with his fingertips and bouncing out the door to their quarters.

With a fond shake of his helm, the chevroned mech followed.

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><p>"Looks like Primus is smiling down on us today," the Datsun commented.<p>

"Sun's shinin', birds chirpin', got a sexy cop car next to me. Course he is Prowler!" crowed the Porshe.

If Prowl had been in root mode, he would have blushed. Feeling it over their bond, Jazz laughed, "Ya gotta accept it baby. Ya're a sexy mech and ya're all for me." Before his partner could admonish him for thinking it, he put on a burst of speed, prompting Prowl to laugh and flick on his sirens, accelerating himself and feeling playful. They had promised to each other that today, nothing would matter, and they would act like they weren't in a war. He intended to do just that. He jabbed over their bond, trying to get Jazz to falter, break his speed, but the martini racer expected it, blocking attempt after attempt and turning off the freeway.

"Catch me!" he called, speeding towards their destination.

"Gladly," murmured Prowl, voice dropping a few registers.

It was a diversion tactic that finally did the trick as Jazz's engine sputtered at the tone and he slowed just enough for his lover to even with him. "You're under arrest."

"Why's that officer?" teased the Porshe as they both slowed to a stop.

They transformed back into their mech forms, with Prowl sweeping his love into his arms to say, "You are a thief. You stole my spark."

Both laughed. It felt liberating to love as if the world was standing still just for them to have this morning, this day of enjoyment. They separated to get the blanket, lay it out on the soft, green grass of the secluded picnic area Jazz had led them to, and to sit. They didn't want to lose contact for a moment, and so they leaned against each other as the saboteur got the energon and the tactician the goodies.

Picking out a goodie, Prowl murmured, "Ratchet said this was his best batch so far. It's softer than usual with melted rust stick in the centre."

"Ooh, yummy," cooed Jazz, opening his mouth as his lover placed the goodie delicately on his bottom lip. He sucked it into his mouth, a soft moan escaping him at the taste. He finished and reached for another. "Let's share this one."

With a coy smile, he gripped the goodie between his denta and lowered his mouth to Prowl's, who saw it coming and pressed their lips together as they sucked on the goodie, tasting the sweetness of energon and the contrasting tartness of the liquefied rust stick. Once dissolved, their mouths remained joined in an intimate caress, their bodies pressing closer together.

"Yeah, that had to be the best goodie Ah ever had," mumbled Jazz, half drunk from the taste of the goodie and Prowl mixed together. It was a heady sensation.

"Me too," replied Prowl, smirking, grabbing the cubes of energon and handing one to Jazz. They took them and drained them, wanting to get back to each other.

After a few more rounds of kissing later, The pair laid back, calm, relaxed, as they watched the clouds move over the sky. "You know, this is what we would have been like on Cybertron. No war. No need to hide how we feel with each other," Prowl said wistfully.

Throwing an arm around the trim waist, Jazz murmured, "Don't dwell on it. It won't do you any good. Just…let's enjoy the rest of the time."

Looking deeply into his mate's visor, the Praxian sighed softly and replied, "Always for you my love."

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><p><strong>AN: **Thank you for my reviewers and favourites so far on this fic. I'm glad you are liking the idea.

I'd love to see what you thought of this one.


	3. Wake Up Call

**Title: **Inspired by Maroon 5

**Verse: **Pre-WarG1

**Song: **Wake Up Call

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Implied torture, OC death and a very very PO'd Prowl.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

**Authors Notes: **After the fluffiness of the last two chapters, I wanted to something a bit darker. Oh, Prowl and Jazz stay together. But the lover is not so lucky.

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 3 – Wake up Call<strong>

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><p>"Please. Ah can't do this anymore. Ah can't lie to Prowl, Ah love him."<p>

"Aw, Jazz. You seriously _want _to be with that stick in the mud? I thought that was the reason you finally decided to see me too."

The saboteur pulled himself out of his lover's arms in a huff. He felt guilty as pit, knowing he should have been with Prowl last night, paying attention to him only, not here with the mech he had on the side. He had cheated because he hadn't felt like his and Prowl's relationship hadn't been going anywhere, but being with his lover…he had found that he wanted Prowl after all. Wanted him forever and he would never stray again.

"No. Ah'm goin' to Prowler and tellin' him the truth. He deserves more than me for doin' this to him, but if he takes me back, Ah'm never gonna be your berth warmer again," said Jazz firmly, making as if to get off the berth but was yanked down.

"No. I can't let you do that," said the larger mech, trapping the visored mech. "He doesn't deserve _you_. He's plain. Boring. Won't make you scream like I can."

"Because Ah haven't given him the chance," spat Jazz, thrashing in the grip.

Growling, the larger mech said, "If you don't come back to me, I'll give your precious _Prowl_ hell and make sure he knows just how much you _don't_ love him."

"Ya wouldn't," gasped the black and white, a cold sense of horror enveloping him. He could hurt this mech right now, but he'd be jailed.

"I would. I want you. And by the time you and your ops mechs come up with a plan to make sure I don't say anything, it'll be too late. You know how fast I can get a message around the Ark."

Jazz felt like roaring in rage. He was trying to do the right thing by Prowl! And this idiot wouldn't let him. He was a fool. He should have never began the affair in the first place. He slumped, feeling the arms slacken their grip around him. "Good mech," purred his lover, roaming his hands over his body and then unceremoniously pushing him off the berth. "Off to your drone. Make sure he suspects nothing."

As the spark broken and guilt ridden saboteur left, little did both mechs know they had been watched.

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><p>Jazz wandered into his tactician's office. He had been called here, and he expected it to be about his new missions. He plastered on a fake smile for his <em>real<em> love. Every time he saw the graceful Praxian, he felt his spark sink deeper in his chestplates. He felt horrible for cheating and wished he could take it back.

Prowl looked up, his gaze neutral, and mentioned for the saboteur to sit down. As he did, he sent a coded databurst to the door. It locked. Now no bot could come in unless it was Prime.

The horned black and white stiffened. This couldn't be good.

Leaning forward, the chevroned mech held out his hand. Jazz took it, feeling nervous. That light blue gaze seemed to x-ray him, show all of his deepest darkest secrets.

"I don't blame you," Prowl murmured after a few more moments of silence, squeezing his lover's hand reassuringly. Jazz tensed even more, knowing _exactly_ what he was referring to. He couldn't help but lurch out of his chair and kneel in front of his love, blurting tearfully, "Ah'm so sorry Prowler. Ah did it because Ah was stupid for thinkin' that maybe ya weren't for me, but when Ah was with 'im, Ah missed ya more, and Ah tried to break off a few nights ago but he wouldn't let me. Ah love ya, and ya don't deserve me. If ya take me back Ah'll never leave ya again. Ah'm so sorry!"

Pulling the distraught mech up into his arms, Prowl stroked over his back and murmured soothingly, "I know, my love. I know. I was witness to that conversation. I know you are genuine."

Jazz reeled back, staring in shock. "How did ya-"

"I thought he was abusing you. And while the truth hurts…I'm still glad I was witness to that. I believe you when you say you'll never cheat on me again. I believe you when you say you love me. I just hope that you will confide in me next time you feel like our relationship is in too much of a static place for you," Prowl replied, embracing him, but letting hurt seep into his tone.

"Ah don't deserve ya," the saboteur mumbled.

Wiping the few tears that had escaped from beneath the visor in his wretchedness, the tactician sighed and replied, "I disagree. While you've upset me, I still think we deserve each other. I won't give you up because of a true mistake on your part."

Jazz made a soft trill in his vocaliser, snuggling up to Prowl and murmuring, "Aw babe, Ah love you. Thank ya so much."

Although he was glad to see Jazz had been honest, Prowl's optics hardened.

The one who prompted Jazz to cheat was going to pay for this.

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><p>One moment, he was doing his duty.<p>

The next, if felt like, he was chained up in the far, noise sealed section of the Autobot base brig. "Hello?" he called out. It was then that he realised that he had a neural line inhibitor. It restricted his ability. Why was he here?

When a black and white frame emerged out of the shadows, icy optics gleaming under that menacing red chevron, the larger mech felt, with a sick sense of certainty, why he was here.

"So…he ratted me out."

Prowl smirked coldly. "He didn't need to. I knew."

The larger mech started, surprised. "How?"

"None of your concern anymore. You have other things to worry about. Search inside yourself. Feel for that bond with Scape. Gone, isn't it?"

The blue mech frantically searched through his familial bonds. He usually closed them off while he was working, but opened them to find that the place where his brother had been was blank, dark and empty. But a more pressing matter was this. "How did you find out he was my brother?"

Prowl continued to smirk. "Come now, Soundwave. Two telepaths? One on either side of the war? Surely they must have been related somehow. It was…unfortunate that he was pushed off a cliff and down into the jagged spires below. But, one less Decepticon really."

Soundwave's visor flashed in alarm. Perhaps he should not have tempted Jazz (with a little bit of telepathy) to begin with. Perhaps he should not have threatened Jazz, should have let the saboteur go back to this mech before him without even thinking anything of it.

There was a clicking sound as Prowl murmured, "Hmm, what to do to you. For blackmailing an officer, for willingly threatening one of higher rank, and for non-disclosure of a familial fact in your personnel file…the combination of these makes you look like a traitor, Soundwave. And you know the fate that comes to traitors in the army. Worse than death. You become factionless and therefore prey."

When Soundwave made a noise of alarm, Prowl waved his hand for silence. "I am not so cruel. But…what I am going to do is completely replace your vocal components so you will ever talk or sing normally again. And then I will make sure you can never use your telepathy on Jazz or myself for the rest of your miserable life. But before that…" Soundwave looked down as the Praxian bent to pick up something metal. A pole with something on the end…it looked like..no…it couldn't be…

He looked down and saw his Autobot insignia had been rubbed off.

Prowl fondled the branding tool in a sensual way. "Managed to borrow one of these from a contact in the Decepticons. He was ever so good about it. I can finally make use of it."

Soundwave tried to speak, but found there were no words as the Praxian came toward him like Unicron himself to take his soul away and lock it up forever.

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><p>That night Prowl lay in his berth, his beautiful saboteur by his side.<p>

Soundwave would never touch him ever again. Being with the Decepticons would make sure of that.

He smiled.

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><p><strong>AN: In other words, 'no touchie my Jazzy!'**

**Please review. I'd like to see what you thought on this take of Prowl and Jazz.**


	4. Just a Feeling

**A/N: This one is in Bayverse, because I felt that the song really fit the scenario that went along with this. **

**Genre:** Pre-2007 Movie Bayverse

**Song: **Just a Feeling

**Rating: **PG-13(ish)

**Warnings:** Slash and angst, implied sparkmerging.

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own the song or TF's

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 4 – Just a Feeling<strong>

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><p>The silver minibot and the black and white Praxian embraced each other on the berth, silent for the moment, for there were no words to describe the news that had come to their attention. Jazz curled in further to his mate, tempted, so very tempted, to scream and sob and <em>destroy<em>. Why? Why why why WHY?

"Prowler," he gasped brokenly, hands clawing at his mate's side in desperation, as if to make sure they would never be separated.

"Jazzy," whispered the usually stoic tactician in reply. His emotions were displayed too openly on his anguished faceplates.

"I don't wanna go babe. Not without you," murmured the silver mech, retracting his visor and allowing the first tear to fall.

"We have to...it's the only way things might survive. I can't abandon the rest of our forces on Cybertron with no one to guide them. Ultra Magnus wouldn't be able to handle it alone," the larger mech said, trying to be rational, but they both knew that they were empty words. Their bond was raw with sorrow as they clung to each other, helpless to stop the events in motion. Fate was being oh so cruel to them.

Sniffling, Jazz murmured, "Why can't 'Raj go? He's my second, he'd be all right..."

"The All Spark Mission needs your expertise my love. It needs only the best. And you are far too good to be anything but," Prowl answered, regret heavily lacing his tone.

The silver mech shook his helm frantically. "I know sweetspark but...I just got this feelin'. Somethin's gonna happen. To you...to me...I don't like it one bit!" The saboteur couldn't take it anymore and burst into fully fledged tears, wailing and keening for all he was worth, his despair echoing through their sparkbond. He realised that his lover had joined him, crying silently but shuddering and whimpering. The cruel reality that this may be the last time they saw each other sickened them both.

It wasn't until the tidal wave of emotion flowed through them that they even realised that their chestplates had opened and they had sparkmerged right there on the precipice of grief and despair.

"Oh my love," wept the Praxian, crushing the smaller frame to his in their embrace desperately.

The minibot craned his neck up, capturing his bondmate's lips with his own, feeding all of his love, his devotion, his agony at their impending separation into it.

So much passion, so much love, snatched away by fate.

Separating with reluctance, Prowl whispered, promised, "I love you. And...and if something happens, I'm coming after you. I won't leave you alone, Autobot cause be damned. Life isn't life if I'm living without you."

Jazz pressed their forehelms together and promised the same.

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><p><strong>AN: and we all know what happened in THAT movie **

**I was in a really angsty mood when I wrote this. Muse would like reviews though. **


	5. He will be loved

**A/N: Okay, RL dealt me a HUGE one, so apologies for lateness on my fics. I managed to squeeze this out, but it's taken me three days because I've been typing solely with my left hand. Yep, that's right, MY LEFT HAND! Only! **

**But yeah, hope you like this. It's a little fluffier than the last one. More about hurt/comfort **

**Rating: **T

**Universe: **G1

**Warnings:** Slash

**Disclaimer: **Doing these things gets really old after you've done 50 of them or more. No, TF's not mine.

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 5 – He will be loved<strong>

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><p>It was another normal evening on the Ark. Most of the bots were sharing in a cube of energon, others on duty, and the very, select few who had the misfortune to have a patrol in the thundering rain pounding down to the Earth outside.<p>

Although, Jazz mused, this time Cliffjumper and Sideswipe earned it. The two red mechs had brawled in the medbay a few days previous, managing to damage delicate equipment and royally annoy Ratchet. The saboteur chuckled at the memory of some very interesting curses that had made their way out of their CMO's mouth.

But for now he kicked back and relaxed, his helm facing forward, but his optics under his visor ever attracted to that lovely vision of the one mech who would make his spark flutter every time he saw him.

Prowl.

Gorgeous, bewitching, clever, dedicated Prowl.

The mentioned mech was getting his own energon, datapad held by his side, an addition that seemed to always be magnetised to him. Jazz didn't mind. He thought it was cute. It made that expression of 'distracted and working' all the more endearing. Smiling, he whistled sharply in a call for the tactician to notice him. As that light blue gaze fell on him, he stretched, showing off his frame just that little bit more. All the more to entice the Praxian. It was his hope that someday soon he and the other black and white would be together. Dating. Making sweet music. Whatever you wanted to call it.

As Prowl approached, the TIC greeted, "Heya Prowler. How are ya?"

"Well, thank you Jazz," murmured the Praxian in reply, sinking into the shadowed part of the booth opposite.

Jazz, as perceptible as he was, saw the fatigue in the elegant frame, those doorwings held at a lower angle than usual. It was off by 5 degrees. His smile dimmed, but he asked, "What's up?"

"Sideswipe was very put out about his punishment. He was very sore about the whole business, protesting that Sunstreaker wasn't going to repaint him for another fortnight, but I told him it's apt for the damages to the medbay," Prowl replied quietly. He was resolved to just drinking his energon and going back to his office to do what he usually did. Work.

The visored mech shrugged, "Ah well, ya know Sides, he'll get over it soon enough."

"I hope so. It would not do for him to further add to his punishment," replied the other mech thoughtfully.

Jazz felt the odd vibes continue to come off the Praxian, but he let it go. Now was not the time for him interrogate him about his problems, and with Prowl, it would get him nowhere. He kept silent, looking for any clues in the body language that would enable him to pick up what was truly bothering the mech he loved. They sat in companionable silence for such a while that it appeared that the rest of the rec room forgot all about them.

"I can't believe Prowl, pulling Bluestreak off patrol tonight so Sideswipe and Cliffjumper could go on as part of his punishment. He's playin' favourites," groused Brawn, he and a few of the other minibots at a table.

Windcharger frowned at his friend. "No he's not. It's proper punishment I think. I mean, I'd hate to do a patrol in the rain than do an extra three during the daytime."

Brawn rolled his optics, while Huffer chimed in, "I think Brawn's right. I know that Hound's on the other patrol. Why wouldn't he pull Hound as well huh? See, just because the chatterbox is a Praxian, Prowl thinks he's right to treat him different from the rest of us."

Jazz and Prowl froze. Prowl only slightly stiffened, while Jazz jerked from his relaxed position. He opened his mouth to assure the doorwinger that they were just being the complaining minibots they were, when Blades, also at the table, chipped in, "Well, I guess we all know who Prowl is screwing now."

As laughter bubbled up at the crude comment, the saboteur seethed. How dare they? He was speechless at the audacity. Why did they think the tactician so low? Why did they have no respect?

He noticed Prowl's doorwings droop even more, even though he pretended to be thoroughly engrossed in his datapad.

Bumblebee, ever the kind bot he was, called over the noise, "First of all, Huffer, pulling Hound off on a night like this is punishment for _him_ as he loves the rain so much, and Blades, how would you feel if someone was saying stuff like this about you? Huh? What if I let it out that you like being dominated by First Aid?"

The copter growled as the rest of the mechs around the table laughed harder, the yellow spy smirking in his minor victory.

'_Good on ya Bee,'_ thought Jazz proudly.

"It still doesn't change the fact that Prowl is a cold sparked stick up the aft who wouldn't care if we all died, as long as we stick to _his _plans," Gears sneered in a snide tone.

Jazz felt his spark run cold all of a sudden, and he whipped his helm back to Prowl, as if wanting to erase all of the cruel words they said, when Prowl stood up, staring blankly at the room. There was a collective gasp as they realised he had listened to everything that had been said. _Everything._ He showed nothing on his face as he walked stiffly over to the rec-room doors – Jazz looking mournfully after him as he noticed those usually proud doorwings droop another 5 degrees. He was torn between yelling at the room or going after the poor mech.

As the door opened, Prowl made to go through, but then a voice yelled, "Here! THANKS FOR THE PATROL YOU SLAGGER!"

And suddenly the pristine black and white plating was covered in brown, oozing mud, thrown over him by an irate mud covered red minibot.

Everyone was silent in their shock, none so much as a certain TIC, who felt his possessive rage swell within him. But he was frozen, wanting to see what happened next.

Prowl seemed to wilt, his datapad dropping from his hand, his knees buckling before he caught himself and ran out, not looking behind him.

Jazz couldn't take the silence anymore as he jumped up, his anger fuelling him as he yelled, "Are ya all HAPPY now? ARE YA? A good mech just ran out of those doors because of all of _you_! Did ya know that Bluestreak had a busted axle which is why he couldn't go on patrol? Did ya know that Sideswipe and Cliffjumper broke the stuff Ratchet specially ordered to help that Wheeljack and Perceptor needed to make better solar harvesters for the energon that we need? Did ya know that Prowl adopted Blue after the fall of Praxus?"

As the TIC continued to berate them, a majority of the mechs shrunk in their seats, ashamed.

"Did ya know he doesn't ever approve a plan with more than 5% chance of injury and never approves it unless it's above 85% of success? Did ya know that he's worked so hard to be the bot he is, tried so hard to protect us all, and yet YA DON'T EVEN SHOW HIM ONE IOTA OF RESPECT!" the saboteur bellowed. He saw the cowed expressions and it wasn't enough for him. He needed them to understand. "And as TIC, and as punishment, ya all have to clean the WHOLE Ark inside and out and each of ya that has ever called him names must go up and apologise sincerely to him, and Primus help ya if ya don't."

With that, he stormed out of the rec-room, not resisting the urge to punch Cliffjumper into the wall as he ran out.

He had to find Prowl.

In the Ark, it was easy. Just follow the mud prints to the entrance of the Ark.

From there, it was trickier. His spark pulsed hard in his chest, filled with rage for those who so tormented the Praxian, and sorrow for Prowl that he was treated so badly. Why had they become so lax in their respect? It bothered him to no end.

"Prowl!" he called, hoping his voice would carry out in the pouring rain. He extended his EM field, setting all sensors on high alert.

"Prowler! Please, answer me!" he yelled. After a few more minutes, he finally saw a flash of white in the darkness, and he sloshed through the wet ground to the tactician, who sat on the ground, wings drooping lower than the saboteur had ever seen them, knees pulled up to his chest and optics shuttered as coolant tears trickled out in silent sobs.

Sliding to a stop and dropping himself to the ground, Jazz immediately said, "Prowler, don't listen to them."

"Why?" the chevroned mech asked brokenly, curling into himself tighter. "Why do they hate me so much?"

Jazz moved closer so their shoulders were touching, the heavy drops of rain making soft pitter pattering noises on their armour. He sighed, embracing the sobbing mech, paying no heed to the flinch of the warm frame under him. "Ah don't know. Ah think they're jealous. Ah think they just wanna forget war exists, and ya're a representation of that. It's not fair on ya."

Prowl let out another sob, leaning into the touch. "Why do I even bother Jazz? I try so hard to do things right b-but…I just want to leave. I want to just….just…I don't want to be an Autobot on days like this!"

"Let it out," murmured the saboteur.

There was a choke, and then a short wail and Prowl let his tears slide freely from his optics. In this moment, there was no mask, nothing but pure raw emotion. Jazz took it all, pressing them close together in comfort, humming softly. It broke his spark to see the tactician like this, but it humbled him that Prowl trusted _him_ when he broke down.

"Tell me how ya feel," he said entreatingly.

There was a shudder, and dimmed blue optics looked deep into his optics before there was a whispered, "I feel as ugly as they make me out to be."

Jazz felt a swift bolt of panic as he grabbed Prowl's arms and arranged them so that they were optic to optic. "Don't ya dare think that. Don't ya dare! They're the ugly ones."

There was too much sorrow in those beautiful optics and he couldn't help but move a hand up to caress the side of Prowl's face, tracing a tear track with a fingertip. "Ah wanna make ya feel beautiful."

The surprise was instant as Prowl scrabbled back, saying harshly, "Don't humour me."

"Ah mean it!" cried Jazz, lurching forward – inadvertently splashing mud on their frames, finding he couldn't care less – and grasping his love's hands desperately, bringing them back together. "Ah mean it. It kills me when ya hide alone in your office, when ya hide bein' _you_ just to protect yourself. Ah've wanted ya for _so long_. Please. Let us take that step together from friends to more."

Prowl bit his lip uncertainly, seeing that sincere expression. He wanted to trust this. He wanted to trust that warm feeling in his spark. "You really do?" he asked. He couldn't take another trick, another hurtful word.

Smiling slightly, wrapping an arm around those slumped shoulders once more, Jazz replied, "Ah do. Ah want ya to be mine. Ah promise to protect ya. Ah never wanna be like those mechs in the rec-room."

The Praxian sobbed once more, pressing their forehelms together, too aware of the warmth of the visored mechs frame, of the rain slicking their frames. He couldn't help his insecurity as he pleaded, "Make me feel beautiful."

It was a beautiful moment as Jazz smiled warmly, retracting his visor so their optics shone into each other. He cupped Prowl's face and leaned in slowly, hesitating for a moment before leaning in and brushing their lips together. Prowl let out a soft whimper, pulling Jazz closer to him, tasting the sweetness of the others lips, so soft and gentle on his own. It felt like all of his feelings had been unlocked, and he broke off with a gasp at the sensations. There was no use in denying the attraction to his friend any more.

"Beautiful," whispered Jazz. "All mine."

"Yours," agreed Prowl.

"You will be loved," promised the visored mech.

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><p><strong>AN: Wow…**

**Anyway, read and review, I hope you all liked it! I so do love all of your reviews and your favourites and alerts. **


	6. Give a Little more

**A/N: This one-shot is not so based off the song or the lyrics, but the feeling I get from it. It's sexy, flirty, with that edge of seriousness. It's also short. **

**Verse: G1**

**Warnings: Slash/kissing**

**Disclaimer: (You know it).**

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><p><strong>Inspired By Maroon 5 - Chapter 6 – Give a Little More<strong>

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><p>Most of those on the Ark believed that Prowl, their rule-abiding tactician, was completely unaware and stone cold to any advances made by the fun-loving, fiery saboteur, Jazz. Subtle signs that some searched for when they saw the two officers together.<p>

None knew that Prowl was completely and utterly aware.

It had turned into a game for the two black and whites. The doorwinger pretending not to notice how Jazz would lean in too close to him, how he visited him more than what was prudent. For Jazz, it was the challenge of seeing how far he could go in public, before Prowl gave him that ever so slight warning look that told him to tone it down.

They hadn't done anything about it.

Yet.

But the saboteur knew that the tactician loved the attention he was paid. Loved that they dragged it on. Giving just a little more each time.

In his office, while the visored black and white flirted shamelessly with Prowl, it was often hard to keep their baser desires in check. Once, and only once, their tenuous control over this little game of theirs almost had been lost, when Jazz had leaned in too close to the white audial and whispered all of the delectable things he had wanted to do to Prowl in that moment. Prowl had snapped, growling low as he spun out of his chair, pinning Jazz to the wall in a blaze of heat.

They had panted, staring into each other's optics, trying to keep a hold of themselves. They were so close…

"Teasin' got to be too much?" asked the saboteur jovially.

"You were turning me on…and on…and on," whispered Prowl, stepping back. Attraction between them was undeniable. Unstoppable.

But no, they had to wait. It was a test on the strength of their will for both of them.

More time passed, some wondering why Jazz kept teasing the Praxian, kept hoping that he'd notice. They didn't see how Jazz got to press against those doorwings with his frame or hands, or the way Prowl had arched ever so slightly into them each time.

Restraint was becoming fragile with each passing seductive smirk.

Finally, when even Prime had thought that nothing would ever develop, the tension snapped.

Jazz had been flirting with Prowl again, half-lying on the table in which the tactician had been trying to do his work. Then, he had whispered something so low, so undeniably seductive, that – to the surprise of those watching in the rec-room – Prowl had finally had enough of having this sweet nectar dangling in front of him and that he restrained himself from taking it.

With a low purr, he stood, flattened Jazz's shoulders to the table, and begun kissing the life out of him. Jazz let out a mewl of surprise before melting into the pressure of hot, passionate lips on his, ignoring the rest of the rec-room.

When they finally separated, cooling fans whirring, they both looked up to find half the room had undergone a processor crash at seeing the usually stoic SIC pouncing on the TIC.

Grinning, Jazz got up and tugged Prowl after him, both chuckling as they went somewhere more private. The long, agonising wait had been so worth it.

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><p><strong>AN: As I said, it's short. But I couldn't think of anything else to write, so…here you go I guess. **


	7. Sweetest Goodbye

**A/N: I'm in a weird mood. I'm thinking this is going to be bittersweet fluff. Anyway….Partially inspired by OptimusPrime007 fic in '30 days and 30 nights.'**

**Also, next chapter this get's moved to the 'M' section. The three chapters after this will be sticky. So you are forewarned. **

**Song: **Sweetest Goodbye

**Rating: **PG-13

**Warnings: **MinorSlash

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I don't own this. Just using it for amusement.

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 7 – Sweetest Goodbye<strong>

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><p>"What are we?"<p>

The abrupt question broke Jazz of from his plans for his mission, and he looked up, confused, at the other mech in the room. His optics took in his friend, those doorwings arched high as ever. There was no other indicator in his posture to give away the reasoning behind the question. Quietly, he asked, "What do ya mean Prowler?"

The Praxian continued to stare at him intensely, those light blue optics lancing through his visor to the sapphire optics beneath. "Surely, Jazz, you do not think the question was an obtuse one."

"It is a bit, yeah."

Prowl canted his helm to the side, and he asked quietly, "How would you define us?"

Frowning, the saboteur replied, "We're good friends. Ah trust ya completely. And Ah don't trust many mechs. Ya're one of five Ah trust that much."

"Ah." The small sound gave away nothing as to Prowl's thoughts as he looked back down at his datapads. The abruptness of it all unnerved Jazz, his suspicions rising.

"What, don't want to be friends anymore?" he asked nonchalantly as possible. Damn Prowl for being so stoic! He couldn't tell anything in the body language or in the nuances of his tone. It bothered him. The tactician had not been this guarded around him in a long time. What had he said or done?

"On the contrary, I value our friendship very much," Prowl replied, and then he allowed one, tiny smile to slip through his barriers. "After all, who else could I trust to let me collapse around them after the fall of Praxus? I shall never forget your support then. Nor of when you gifted me with the miniature crystal garden for my sparkday just before we left Cybertron. No, Jazz. I would never want to end something so special."

As the chevroned mech looked back down, the visored mech pondered over those phrases, turning them over in his mind. The key to his friend's problem was here, he had a feeling in his gut.

'Something so special,' now that was important. True, they were very close. Close enough that they spent a lot of their time in each other's company. They confided in each other often. Their hopes, dreams…fears and inadequacies. Their past loves. 'Trust' was another key feature. It was hard to trust in times like these, no matter how wonderful Earth was.

The way he said 'I would never want to end something so special' implied that whatever he was thinking about was linked to it possibly damaging their relationship as it was now.

Well, Prowl didn't want to stop being friends. Which left the other direction.

It clicked.

"Prowl," he murmured, "we are very good friends."

The other mech made a noise to indicate he was listening.

"And ya know, if it weren't for the fact Ah got a long mission tomorrow, Ah'd want to talk this out. About…about movin' on to somethin' more."

Prowl's helm snapped up in a quick movement, emotions flitting across his face too quick for Jazz to completely analyse them all. But among them were dismay that he had been figured out. And embarrassment. And fear. He asked quietly, "Do you find the idea repulsive? If you say no to spare my hurt please do not do so."

Jazz frowned. Did Prowl think that low of himself? Truth be told, Prowl had been at the top of the list of 'mech's I wouldn't mind settling down with.' Leaning forward and clasping a pearl white hand in his, he gently fondled it, laying it flat before letting the fingers curl into his own.

"No. It ain't. Ah told ya Prowler. Ah trust ya more than Ah trust any other mech," the saboteur replied, looking into those shy blue optics. Truth be told, he had found his friend rather…cute at times.

"I trust you just as much," Prowl replied quietly, his stance relaxing. Even his doorwings finally fluttering slowly.

Jazz's expression dropped and he sighed. "Ah don't have the time to reassure ya about what we mean to each other. About how we _want_ to mean to each other. Ah've gotta get ready. Y'know, for-"

"For your mission," the tactician concluded.

The other nodded.

They were silent then, holding hands and pondering what they wanted.

Jazz made to get up, but the gentle and insistent hand keeping him where he was stopped him.

"Can you…can you give me something to keep me hoping while you are on your mission?" Prowl asked shyly, the faint sheen of a blush staining his cheekplates.

Smiling at the adorable expression, the visored mech came around to his friend's side and slowly ran a finger over the leading edge of a doorwing. Their optics were locked on each other the whole time as his finger continued to rub and trace over the outline in a promise. He leaned down, inhaling the scent of sweet oil and standard polish and pressing a kiss to the shoulder, relishing in the small gasp emitted by the Praxian.

"That's the sweetest goodbye Ah could ever give," he murmured, and left the room, the promise of being lovers once he returned hanging in the air.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, I hope you liked it! I know, another short one, but I'm really tired at the moment. Like…really really tired. **

**But reviews are always appreciated and loved. **


	8. Can't Stop

**A/N: Here we go! The first of the M-rated ones! This one is Jazz solo….**

**Verse:** G1

**Rating:** Obvious NC-17/M

**Warnings:** Sticky, masturbation.

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own transformers. Or this song.

**Song:** Can't Stop – Maroon 5

**Notes:** I was listening to this song one day and I pictured this. This one chapter is the WHOLE reason why I did this series. Italics are the song words.

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 8 – Can't Stop<strong>

* * *

><p>Jazz was dancing, the volume turned high, bass thudding through his frame.<p>

No matter how difficult the moves were, no matter how hard he hit them, he still couldn't rid himself of the restlessness, of the frustration within him. Would his efforts to entice Prowl to a little rendezvous and something more ever achieve anything? Heck, he had brought the tactician a single, white rose today and all he had done was smile and say 'Thank you.'

The tone had been expectant. He had gotten used to Jazz bringing him gifts.

But Prowl had obviously not grasped that the saboteur desired him in any way, shape, or form.

The song ended, and Jazz's visor flashed as he hit the pause button on his stereo. He sighed, retracting his visor so he could rub at his optics.

He needed some other form of stress relief, one that had been building and building in his period of abstinence in order to prove to Prowl that he would be a good potential mate, to get him interested.

And he knew the perfect song.

Switching the CD, he set it to the right track, and as the intro began he leapt on his berth. The funky guitar riff made his systems rev in interest, the sexy sound flowing into him.

_All alone in my room, think of you at a rate that is truly alarming  
>I keep looping my memories of you in my head, I pretend that you want me<br>And I fall asleep and dream of alternate realities  
>And I put myself at ease by pretending that she still loves me<em>

"Yes," breathed Jazz as he slid his fingers over his frame, circling roughly over his headlights, gasping at the little, immediate shocks of pleasure. He pinched at hip wiring, closing his optics and focusing on the electric sensations. Jazz imagined it was Prowl over him, asking him what he liked, confirming he wanted this and nipping over the sensitive parts of his bumper. The thought made him moan.

_And I can't stop thinking about you  
>And I can't stop thinking about you<br>You never call, what do I do?  
>And I can't stop thinking about your love<em>

_Ohh, yeah_

It was too hot, too fast.

Almost without his will, his panel opened and his spike – hot and restrained – shot out like a silver lance, fluid beading, an indicator of his arousal. The blue optics flickered as cooling fans whirred faster, a black hand curling around the hot shaft and gripping tight. He moaned again and pumped in time to the music, fast, hard. Pounding.

"Frag," Jazz gasped, pulling up and down in hot strokes, the pre-fluid easing the glide of his hand. His imagination continued to please him, replacing his black hand with a white one, imagining curious optics studying him to see what he liked.

"Hard….fast," he groaned out to the imaginary apparition of his lover.

_Can't believe I could think that she would just follow me everywhere I go  
>I just wrestle with you in my dreams and wake up making love to a pillow<br>And I fall asleep and dream of alternate realities  
>And I put myself at ease by pretending that she still loves me<em>

"Uuuhn!" Jazz shuttered his optics tightly, gritting his denta as he followed his own instruction, his other hand still trailing and teasing over known hotspots on his body. He then traced them to his mouth, where he thought of sucking on Prowl's fingers, making the other mech mewl in delight as he gave pleasure back.

_And I can't stop thinking about you  
>And I can't stop thinking about you<br>You never call, what do I do?  
>And I can't stop, and I can't stop<em>

"Mmmm," he hummed, corkscrewing his hand now. The rate he was going, he was going to overload fast and hard, one of the fastest he'd ever had.

Oh those pretty doorwings. How they would look fluttering in his hands as he petted them, licked them, nibbled them. To see that handsome face lose all semblance of poise and to be lost in the throes of passion, screwed up in ecstasy…it made a tight, hot pool of want settle in his lower abdomen.

If only the gorgeous bot would take notice.

_What I would give to have you look in my direction  
>And I'd give my life to somehow attract your attention<br>And I touch myself like it's somebody else  
>Thoughts of you are tattooed on my mind, let me show you<em>

"Nnnggh…" he purred lowly, slowing the slide of his hand for the last verse, knowing that his patience would be given ample reward once he started again. "Oh Prowl," Jazz whispered to the privacy of his quarters, wishing the Praxian could share in this pleasure with him. Oh how hot and perfect it was. It would be even better with Prowl by his side.

And then the heavy drum was thudding through him, and he slid his free hand down to his spike, thumb swirling around the slit in his anticipation for the chorus.

_And I can't stop thinking about you  
>And I can't stop thinking about you<br>You'll never go, what do I do?  
>And I can't stop thinking about you<em>

With a wild cry, Jazz began to pump himself again, his hands slippery with pre-fluid as they both gripped his arousal and stimulated him in all the best ways. He felt like his spike was going to burst with the stiffness and pleasure. "Nnnn….nnn….." pumping his spike almost frantically now, willing the overload, wanting it, wanting the spill all over himself and his berth. He conjured up one last image, of Prowl, needy, wanton, spike rubbing up against his own.

_And I can't stop thinking about you_  
><em>And I can't stop thinking about you<em>  
><em>You'll never go, what do I do?<em>  
><em>And I can't stop thinking about you<em>

"Rrrrraaaaaaaahhh!" Jazz climaxed with a roar, his overload felt like it was burning him from the inside out as transfluid spurted into the air and over his hands in hot, silvery bursts. His hips shuddered as his overload continued to ride out. His whole being was flushing with sensation and his helm rang with the force of his pleasure.

Finally, he slumped, the music clicking off.

"Oh Primus," Jazz murmured, bringing up his stained hand and looking at it in satisfaction. Damn, but that had been just what he needed.

Getting a towel to clean up, he said to himself, "Ah just gotta give him time. Just a bit more time before he's mine."

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><p><strong>AN: Like? Let me know! I've haven't done a masturbation fic in AGES, so let me know how this went.**

**Thank you to all who review/favourite/alert. I love you all. **


	9. Kiwi

**A/N: **More smut ahead! I also used another smutty song for this. And my first TFA fic!

**Verse: **TFA

**Characters: **Prowl/Jazz

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warnings:** Sticky slash!

**Song: **Kiwi

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own Maroon 5 songs OR Transformers. **

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 9 – Kiwi<strong>

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><p>"Fascinating."<p>

Sari held a half of the fruit to each ninja bot, watching their rapt expressions as they examined it. "It's called a kiwifruit. Most people call them kiwis. Some people don't like them, but I think they taste yummy."

Prowl held it up to his visor, admiring the brilliant green flesh of the inside as well as the tiny black seeds clustered around a white core. He turned it in his fingers, about to remark to his companion about the amazing qualities of organic life, only to see Jazz experimentally dart his glossa out to lick the kiwi.

"Jazz! You don't know what the juice will do to your system!" he scolded.

The white ninja just chuckled. "Prowler, chill. Tastes nice and tangy. Like another thing I like to lick."

Prowl forced down the urge to blush – he knew _exactly_ what Jazz was referring to – and said, "Fine. But when you go to Ratchet complaining of a tank upset, don't expect me to come running after you."

Both Sari and Jazz laughed, but the black and gold ninja knew what kind of payback would be most satisfactory…for both he and Jazz.

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><p>Later that night, Prowl was ever so glad that he had gotten his rooms in the factory sound-proofed.<p>

Or else _everyone_ would have known what he was doing to his lover.

"Uuughh…uhh…nnn…P-p-prowl!"

The smaller ninja, kneeling at the foot of the berth with his glossa buried deeply in Jazz's valve, merely chuckled, before continuing to tease, slowly sliding his glossa in and out, letting the tip flick against the various sensory nodes. His cooling fans were humming as he continued to taste his lover. Primus but Jazz was so sweet and tangy.

Perfect.

The other ninja was a mess of hot metal as Prowl withdrew for a few moments to kiss around the soaked rim, before delving back in before, prompting another drawn out moan of his name.

Jazz was incoherent. Prowl had been teasing him like this for the past 20 minutes! His nodes were feeling so sensitised, and he wanted to overload so much as static pleasure continued to build in his frame, circuits buzzing. His valve clenched down on the slick, flexible invader as if to trap it, but to no avail. Prowl was simply too crafty and he retreated, his slight hands running along his thighs while his mouth smirked up at him.

"Patience."

"Ain't got any," breathed the white mech.

The black and gold gave a coy shrug before bending back down to lick over the sensor bud on the top rim of the heated entrance.

The keen and buck generated from that one move made him feel ever so smug.

"More?" he teased.

"More!" begged the other ninja, desperation sounding loudly in his tone.

"Mmm," hummed Prowl in approval before latching his mouth over the opening and sucking noisily, flicking his glossa in and out of the opening in a rapid pace, knowing his lover would not last long under the sensual assault, adding his hands into the mix and caressing the crevice between hip and thigh where a nice line of sensitive points were located. His own spike and valve were prepared, but he wanted Jazz to overload. Wanted all that lovely lubricant to spill into his waiting mouth.

"Prowl!" cried Jazz, writhing as overload hit, his valve clenching and lubricant gushing into his lover's mouth.

Prowl caught it all and lapped around the soaked interface array as he swallowed the spill, moaning at the taste. As Jazz moaned and gasped from the overload, he stood, pressing his lithe body over the other ninja bots. "Mmm, so good," he purred.

Jazz's visor darkened. His juices were dripping down Prowl's chin, and the slighter mech was simply licking it all up like energon. He shuddered. "Kinky."

"No. Kinky is me using your nun chucks as an interface toys."

"Promises, promises," chided the white mech mockingly.

The black and gold mech pressed their mouths together and they leaned into a passionate kiss. He let out a noise of surprise as they were suddenly flipped and Jazz was grinning above him.

"My turn," he purred.

Prowl could only smirk.

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><p><strong>AN: REVIEWS ARE LOVED!**

**I got so turned on while writing this. Mmmmm…not to mention the song is quite fun too. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it! I know I did ;D**


	10. Secret & Never gonna leave this bed

**A/N: Here it is, the final instalment of this little series. This one is cute and bittersweet fluff. **

**Song Inspirations:** 'Never gonna leave this bed' and 'Secret'

**Rating:** Nc-17

**Verse:** Pre-war G1 and G1

**Warnings:** Implied sticky, mech/mech slash, sparkbonding

**Disclaimer: **No, Transformers is not mine.

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><p><strong>Inspired by Maroon 5 – Chapter 10 – Secret &amp; Never gonna leave this bed<strong>

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><p>Iacon.<p>

Before the war, a beautiful sprawling metal city, characterised by the grand buildings that all knew it by. The grand golden courthouse, where judges presided over the common mechs and femmes, the council chambers, and also, the picturesque residence of the Prime, Prime Palace. The city was home to millions of mecha, from the smallest sparkling right up to the largest shuttle.

It was a pleasant day on Iacon before everything went to pieces.

The first indication that something was terribly wrong was that a black and white mech was worried, alone in the spacious apartment he shared with his bondmate. His bondmate was late.

The trip to Praxus to finalise the transfer from the enforcers in Praxus to the enforcers in Iacon shouldn't have taken as long as it obviously was currently. Jazz couldn't relax. His bondmate was out of range, but he could detect he was still alive. It was right to be concerned. He had heard whisperings that Cybertron was about to undergo a historical change, that mecha were feeling rebellious against the current government – the Council, and Sentinel Prime. Usually, Jazz wouldn't put any credence into rumours. But when that rumour was echoed from the gilded palace of the Prime right down to the lowest gutter in Kaon, it was based more on truth than anything.

Jazz looked out the window, over the suburbia. He and his bondmate were happy. War, if it happened, would test this. He and his Praxian had discussed the possibilities that such activity – if it became reality – would cause them both to have to adapt to the situation. They had a plan.

But then again, Prowl, more often than not, had a plan.

Jazz sighed, rubbing his optics. Iacon looked so peaceful. Why would someone want to take it down, destroy, just for the sake of changing the ruling bodies? While he agreed that the system was corrupt in the Council, not helped along by their aloof Prime, he would never justify it by innocents being killed.

He had heard of such happening down in Kaon. Slow, but sure, fuelling the rumours.

The horned mech was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped, startled, when the door to the apartment cycled open with a crash.

He turned to see his bondmate there, blackened and shivering, something small wrapped up in his arms. Jazz gasped and ran forward, forcing the bond open between them as he gathered his poor mech up and held him close.

"What happened Prowler?"

"P-p-praxus…is…gone," Prowl choked out, coughing to clear the dust and grit from his intakes.

Jazz froze in his shock, optics going wide. "….what?" he asked quietly, leading the dented, doorwinged mech to their couch, setting him down and clutching him closer, feeding wave after wave of calm and love and support through their bond. Prowl looked a mess, both physically and mentally.

The chevroned mech leaned against his mech, fighting the urge to keen his anguish at the horrifying sights he had seen. "I had just finished the p-p-*cough* datawork for my transfer here to Iacon. It was approved. I left the enforcers building just as it blew up behind me." There was a cold feeling of dread through their bond as Prowl re-lived the event. "They all died instantly. I remember the screaming. It…it increased as more buildings began to explode. The c-crystal gardens. They're gone. The beautiful glass bridge over the oil falls, destroyed. And then…the Decepticons came."

"Decepticons?" Jazz asked, unable to hide his horror at what had happened.

"What the rebels are calling themselves now. Led by a mech as grey as the plains, a gladiator they call Megatron," replied Prowl, calmed slightly by his lover's presence. "They killed. No mercy. They kept shouting that this was 'a message' to Iacon. I ran, using my old back tracks. That's how I got out. I transformed and sped out of there, having to hide and wait until it was safe. I got back here as fast as I could. War…war has begun now…surely."

The slightly smaller mech pondered on this, unable to stop an energon tear from escaping from an optic in his shared sorrow. Through their bond, he knew Prowl had sobbed already on his way back to their home, and was now focussed on bringing justice to the rebels.

Jazz was about to see if his mate need energon when a small, snuffling cry drew his attention.

Prowl shifted to look down at the bundle of blankets in the crook of his arm. It moved, and then a little hand shot out, waving around.

"Prowl…is that a-"

"A sparkling. I snatched him from his carrier's dying frame as I ran. Apparently his name is Bluestreak," the doorwinger replied softly, sitting up and facing his bondmate so that he could reveal the precious package he had. Tender hands revealed the grey sparkling with red highlights. Jazz was silent as he took in the little being, looking so similar to Prowl. Same frame type.

The little sparkling opened his optics, showing their baby blue colouring, and looked around. Silent.

"Hi. Can ya talk?"

Bluestreak cocked his helm for a second before he burst forth with sparkling clicks, chirps, and whistles in a seemingly never ending stream, becoming animated quickly.

Prowl and Jazz chuckled lightly at the innocence, a breath of fresh air after the tidings of tragedy.

While the sparkling was happily chatting to himself, the bondmates looked at each other, realising what this outbreak of war would mean for them.

Now.

Jazz felt more tears prick his optics as Prowl conveyed acknowledgement of what they would have to do, of what they would have to sacrifice in order to bring justice to those that murdered a city of innocents. However, he fought the tears actually falling. He knew it would make Prowl hesitate and falter.

"We must act quickly," the chevroned mech murmured solemnly, pressing his forehelm close to his mates. "Once we are with the Autobot army…we must never reveal that we are bonded. If we are revealed, I fear for the both of us. I love you too much for this venture to end in further tragedy."

"I love ya too," Jazz replied, kissing him, knowing it would be the last kiss he would have for a while. Prowl had a plan. He would follow it.

They parted, slowly dampening each end of the bond until they could _just_ feel each other. They both whimpered, knowing they needed the contact in a time of hurt, but if Prowl's tactical predictions were right, then things were going to get much worse from here.

"Our records were most likely destroyed in Praxus. I'll go to the Prime tonight and let him know. From there…well, you know," Prowl said softly, his optics holding his mate's, savouring each moment now.

Jazz nodded. He looked towards a cabinet on the other side of the room.

"I'll wear Obscure. It'll make me look different."

Prowl agreed.

The moment was upon them. With a final embrace, Prowl left, and Jazz forced the sadness away. It was a time for action. He stood, walking towards the cabinet and opening it. A gleaming azure visor sat there, freshly made, designed for him and him only. He called it Obscure.

For it would obscure the real reason why he was going to fight in this war.

For Prowl.

* * *

><p><strong>Millennia Later<strong>

* * *

><p>So much time had passed since Prowl and Jazz's vow to pretend not to be bondmates for the good of Cybertron.<p>

They were on a new planet. They had become SIC and TIC of the Autobot army, serving under a new Prime, a fairer Prime: Optimus Prime.

And it was becoming harder, day by day, to pretend they didn't mean anything to each other apart from good friends. They had the rare opportunity to connect before it was gone. A late night frag in Prowl's office, a quick kiss in an unmonitored corridor, a 'mission' to a neighbouring state so they could refresh their bond by hours of interfacing and sparkmerging, whispering litanies of love to make sure the strain of being apart didn't show.

Getting out of a meeting, they shared a quick, knowing glance as Jazz pulsed over their bond.

They _needed_ again. Tonight.

They turned away as if nothing happened, the saboteur to his special ops mechs, the tactician to his office and the inevitable datapads.

Later that night, almost spent after two hot, passionate rounds of interfacing their processors out, Prowl half curled himself around Jazz, who was awfully quiet and shrinking slightly from his touch. "Jazz?"

A small sniffle. "It's nothin' babe."

"Look at me, my Jazz."

The visored mech turned to face his bondmate, clicking up his visor so the Praxian could look into those tearful sapphire optics. His spark clenched, and he pulled the other black and white closer to him, cooing to him. "I love you. Tell me what's wrong."

"I _hate_ lyin' to the world! I want everyone to know ya belong to and love me, and that I belong to and love ya too!" he blurted, frustrated.

For a second, Prowl was silent, comprehending what Jazz had said, before he suddenly, strangely, burst out into laughter, much to his bondmate's surprise.

"Did I say somethin' funny?" Jazz asked flatly.

The tactician chuckled, capturing his love's lips in a sweet kiss before pulling back and explaining, "And I thought _I _was having trouble holding all of it in. Oh how I've wanted to break, to claim you publically so all knew, to live with you here in the Ark so we could finally be _one._ I wanted it for so long but feared that war would tear us apart soon after."

The saboteur smiled brilliantly then, scooting closer to his love and holding him tight. "Does that mean…"

"Yes. I never want to leave you again in this berth. Not anymore. It's too lonely for the both of us. We have sacrificed enough. It is time that all knew," Prowl whispered in reply, clasping the lithe form in his arms, glorying in the warmth, the knowledge that he was _determined_ to make sure that this would be his greeting for every night of recharge they took.

Jazz purred happily, snuggling close. "I'm glad. Ya know how I get awful lonely."

"I know."

Jazz pulsed through their bond and rolled on top of his bondmate, nuzzling his neck and kissing him. Prowl understood what he needed, what _they_ needed, and unlocked his chestplates, sliding them apart just enough so the brilliance of his spark shone through. He moaned lowly as lips teased sensitive cables in his neck, working down to his chest and kissing over the part in his chestplates reverently. It was a beautiful thing, Jazz's kisses.

"Want," the horned black and white whispered hoarsely, his own chestplates sliding open, only fully displaying his spark to his mate, unhindered by the casing as it slid away.

"Shu," shushed the doorwinger, content to bask in the overwhelming euphoria and pure love emanating from his mate.

Jazz growled lowly, attacking his lover's mouth with a ferocious, needy kiss, abruptly changing Prowl's mind. No longer was he content to feel the whispers of a sparkmerge. Like Jazz, now he wanted. The barriers to his spark slid away with sharp snaps, leaving their sparks bared, so close to each other. He shuttered his optics and hissed, hearing Jazz do the same, caught in the net of _feeling_. Their sparks licked out at one another, electric tendrils unfurling from each single spark to reach for its partner, for the other half itself. The tendrils wove around each other as the pair sunk back into the berth, chests coming into closer contact as their mouths joined in a heated passion.

"Please," they gasped together, euphoria rising.

The horned mech lowered his chest the rest of the way, curling forward into his keening mate as full connection was established, their sparks intertwining together, becoming that _perfect_ sensation of _one._

Love at the forefront.

Devotion a close second, passion, lust, longing, and a myriad of other emotions flooded the intimate link they shared. Prowl pulled his mate ever closer, their moans and cries joining in tandem as the energies built, running hot, burning, intense.

The spark was whole, smooth, and blindingly white as the sparkmerge hit its pinnacle, the writhing black and white frames crying out their joy as overload swept them away.

They lay, panting, one over the other, as their sparks gently pulled away from each other, each spark returning back fully to its individual spark housing.

"Love," Prowl whispered, tenderly stroking over the sensitive black horns on his mate's helm, kissing his cheek.

"Mmm…warm again," mumbled Jazz in complete contentment, feeling so full and light after their merge, a feeling echoed by the tactician.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: WHOO-HOO! This is done! EEEE! Please review, and let me know if you liked it. Thank you to all who reviewed and favourite and alerted this story. It means a lot to me guys!**


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